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Shaking, I hauled ass to my trailer, my hands trembling, my stomach roiling.
The scars on my back itched like crazy.
“Hold up your shirt, boy.”
Whack.
“You’re disgusting, acting like a fucking sissy ass.”
Whack.
“Stop sniveling, you little shit. Take it like a man.”
Whack.
The memory of my stepfather’s voice was suddenly as loud as Neal’s.
A ghost that I needed desperately to shake off.
I tried to.
After I stumbled into the bathroom and emptied my stomach contents into the toilet.
This movie was turning out to be a disaster. My role was cutting way too close to home for comfort.
It would look great on my portfolio. But it was hell on my sanity.
Acting like the kind of man I despised was fucking with my head. And every day that passed, the tension on set grew higher. I couldn’t retain dialogue and I had a hard time concentrating. Restless sleep followed, along with little appetite. The longer I was in character, the worse I felt. Until I was heaving my guts out by the end of the day. Every day.
It wasn’t only the job that had me in a bad way. It was my relationship with Neal. My mentor.
Getting ahead, especially with the showbiz heavyweights in this town, came at a price.
At Neal’s insistence, I’d dropped all contact with Reed, and guilt gnawed away at my gut like a painful ulcer.
You’re an asshole. And a hypocrite.
I was all that and more.
Reed was too good for the likes of me. He deserved better.
Maybe leaving him alone was for the best. Letting him go was the kindest thing I could do, my last act of friendship.
That reasoning didn’t make me feel any better.
I wiped my mouth and leaned back to take a much-needed breath.
Once my stomach settled, and while I was still on my knees, I frantically searched under the sink for a familiar plastic container. It was hidden, taped behind the pipe.
I ripped off the tape and grabbed the container, then stood up on wobbly legs. Opening the box, I reached for the baggie and the metal straw, dumped the entire amount of coke into the counter, and sniffed until every single white speck of it was gone.
Fuck, that was good. So good.
I should’ve done a line before I headed on set this morning, but I only had one baggie left, and I’d wanted to save it for the end of the day to relax. The cast would often party at night, and I needed social lubrication. That was my usual routine.
But now, I needed a boost in the morning to prepare myself for the day ahead. And at times like this, a midday reliever.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I texted my dealer, demanding more.
